Saturday, 28 March 2009
Abeyance
The Romantics, they speak of the seduction in wait; the tint of titillation in the parsing of passing. But I do not parse the pastures, I bend to the grass and I am grazed. Can I really stomach it? Unlike the four-stomached bull, I have only one: one plane self, buried beneath. My hope will uproot me. But for now, my dear, I am dormant- till the seedlings arrive.
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parse the passivity of "knowledge."
ReplyDeleteparse the jaundice of the "thinker."
parse the fierceness of "love"
i stand. i growl. i take all these things and put them in quotations for the world is yet to leave its playground, its safe sand box.
meanwhile, i will wait.
for the "world" to change.
The world will change once we are at our own personal helm and can abide by our quotations, our inner thoughts. Having been there, we can go back. But for now, I am elsewhere.
ReplyDeleteI feel my inability at the hesitance of utterance, but unfuckingfortunately it is my surviving strength.
Oh, it is frustrating to lie in wait.
June 7 will come. Days after that will come.
ReplyDeleteWhat is on the other side is but foggy and not able to be parsed yet it passes the mind constantly.
But I will be patient. I will wait.
Beyond the June's fateful seventh day I will chill.
We will all chill the world, make it a better place for you and for me and the entire chiller race.